


The Glories of the Coming Day

by greygerbil



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 23:17:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14658284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Chris is a poor actor in a small dock-side theatre who, to his own surprise, has attracted the attention and affection of Prince Georgi. Their strange relationship persists for long enough for Chris to fall in love despite his better knowledge, but then their romance is almost cut short by an attack that finally forces King Victor to deal with his brother's illicit affair.





	The Glories of the Coming Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for YoI Royalty Week, Day 2: Star-Crossed: Family rivalries, opposing countries in war, differences in social position. We may be separated by circumstance, but we are united by something deeper.

“Come, my love, and let’s away! We look to the glories of the coming day.”

Chris grasped the hand of the bride he had won and threw another contemptuous look at the wounded would-be suitor stretched out on the ground after losing their duel before he turned his brilliant smile on the audience. The final line lingered for a moment before the crowded room broke out in applause and cheers and Chris threw a sideways grin at Evgenia before they both bowed deeply before their adoring public.

As long as he had been an actor, which was near fifteen years now, he had always loved to linger on the stage after the performance. Playing the parts was a reward in itself, but who would say no to a little enthusiastic adoration to end the evening on a high note? Tonight, however, Chris was eager to get the waving and smiling over with because in the sea of faces, he had already spotted the one man whose very personal appreciation he was eager for.

After staying just long enough so he wouldn’t seem ungrateful, Chris clapped his fallen rival in love on the shoulder, squeezed Evgenia’s hand once more, and escaped past the curtain into the back. There, he congratulated the jester on her performance and helped Evgenia’s on-stage father get out of the robes that had entangled themselves in the props on his belt before he rid himself of his own clothes and slipped into a simple, wide-sleeved shirt and hemp trousers.

The Southbank Company’s theatre was, to put it mildly, not located in the best neighbourhood of the kingdom’s capital city. This was most easily proven by the fact that it was only separated by a narrow back alley from both a brothel and a rather raucous tavern. Now, Chris had no personal need of the former, but certain audience members appreciated how close together their entertainment venues were and that drew in customers. The latter’s placement was a blessing because if you wanted to get properly drunk after the show, you only had to make it a dozen steps down the road, and you didn’t get into _too_ many brawls over there because the owner personally kicked out anyone who damaged his furniture, which was handy if you had to go on stage without a black eye the next day. Chris assumed finer folk than him would turn up their nose at such constellations, though.

Most finer folks, that was, he thought, as he made his way past pieces of old scenery and crates of costumes to unlock the door to the back alley. One very fine man was waiting for him just there in the shadows, squeezed between the crooked brick walls, wrapped in a long dark mantle to keep the wet autumn wind at bay. Chris grinned as he locked the door behind himself and fastened the iron key ring to his belt.

“How did you like it?”

“You were sublime!” Georgi said, hurrying over to wrap his long arms around Chris’ neck. “That monologue when you eloped with Lady Ulanova… I’ve seen this play at the theatre in the Pearl District last month and they did not come close.”

“They should just hire me already,” Chris joked and pecked him on the lips, on the cheek, on the ticklish spot just under his earlobe. “I think my Northern Tongue is good enough now.”

It was not unusual for his lover to have seen other versions of the plays that Southbank Company put on stage. After all, copying ideas from the theatres their audience didn’t have the money for was a pretty smart way to do business – the interest was already there and they just had to collect. It was also how Georgi had first ended up speaking to Chris. Dissatisfied with a more respectable recent production of one of his favourite tragic romances, he had somehow gotten wind that the Southbank Company was putting it on, too. Chris had played a warrior trying to find his way back to his betrothed, who obviously died in honourable battle in the last act in front of the walls of his hometown. When Georgi had found him in the tavern and gushed to him about his performance after that fateful evening, the fact that his boots had no holes at all and his cloak looked barely dust-stained had outed him as an outsider in the Southbank Theatre at first glance. He had called himself a nobleman when Chris had pulled off his expensive clothes in bed a few weeks later, after Georgi had come back several times to watch him on stage and always tarried to talk to Chris afterwards.

“What sort of noble are we talking?” Chris had asked, grinning as he leaned over him. “I want to know how high a lord I can lure to the sordid underbelly of the city with my talents.”

“Let’s say my family wasn’t given their titles yesterday,” Georgi had answered with a secretive smile.

That had been an understatement, Chris found out a week later, when he watched the royal parade in the Pearl District which was held in celebration of King Victor’s marriage to Prince Yuuri from the Sunrise Islands. Georgi and his siblings Mila and Yuri were walking just behind the pair – _Prince_ Georgi, younger brother to King Victor, that was.

Chris liked to think of himself as pretty irresistible, but even he hadn’t thought he’d ever lure in a prince. Not only was there a persistent myth that the royal family of the Northern Lands were descendant from a whole handful of gods, his ancestors, siblings, and even Georgi himself had fought in many great wars that had been backdrops for several plays Chris had been in. He’d bandied Georgi’s name about on stage more than once. However, when he’d said it in bed, he’d obviously thought that Georgi was just some kid whose parents had meant to flatter the king by giving the same name to a boy born about the time of the royal son. Who would have guessed a prince came to the Southbank, after all?

Looking at Georgi now, months later, his eyes soft with adoration and a blissful smile on his lips as he hung off Chris’ neck, the shock had long worn off. Possible divine ancestry, blue blood and medals won in war aside, Georgi was really just a man, and Chris knew how to handle men.

“The night is still young, your highness,” he said, after kissing him again. “Where would you like to go?”

“I’m sure you want to eat,” Georgi said. “You’ve been on stage for hours. Let’s go to the tavern.”

“Splendid idea. Although… I do have food at home and I don’t feel like waiting to get you out of this.” His fingers teased at the cloak and slipped underneath to run over Georgi’s back. “It has been too long.”

“You’re right. But I had to visit Sesganov. Now that Victor has found someone, Lord Yakov would like me to think about marriage, too.”

Chris smiled broadly. He usually did when this topic was brushed. It was a whole lot easier than to own up to the fact that at some point down the line, his heart had made a decision entirely without consulting his brain and declared the prince a viable option for Chris’ first serious entanglement in years. After all, what the court clearly wanted was a penniless war-time refugee who played in a dingy theatre which was only one shaky step above the places where the actors went behind the stage to fuck paying audience members after the show.

“Did they have any pretty sons or daughters?”

“I don’t know. I don’t look. I already have you,” Georgi said with conviction.

It would have helped if Georgi was a little bit more reasonable about the matter, too, and didn’t make Chris’ heart jump in his chest like this.

“I’m more courtesan material,” Chris joked, squeezing his hand.

“Not really,” Georgi said, failing to hide that the rejection of his romantic notion wounded him, which in turn made Chris want to kiss him more. “You don’t ever take money or anything else from me. You would make a very bad courtesan.”

Chris had to laugh. He pulled Georgi out of the alley, turning down the street. His house was not far, but if they didn’t get on their way, he might be tempted to jump Georgi in the alley instead.

“I don’t need anything from you but yourself.”

Yes, he would eventually want to play at a theatre where he wasn’t worried the beams above his head or the planks under his feet might crack, but he’d get there, and for now, the Southbank Company was fine. He got fun roles, money enough to stay alive, and free drinks at the tavern at their back after premieres. Besides that, the handsome and kind prince of a kingdom that spanned wider than a horse could run in two cycles of the moon was absolutely smitten with him. It was a much better life than he’d imagined when he’d fled his burned home after the wars in the Summerlands. Risking Georgi’s trust for riches would have been foolish and unnecessary to boot. You could always get money somewhere, somehow, if you had a working brain and body. Someone who looked at him the way Georgi did? Not quite as easy to come by.

“You are sweet,” Georgi said, smiling.

“Well, most of the time.” Chris grinned. “Though I have to say, if you want to pay me for my attention another way, I have a few ideas…”

The house in which Chris lived in a one-room-apartment overlooking the street was already in view. He grabbed his key ring again, steering them towards the door.

“Aren’t suitors supposed to pay the wenches?” Georgi asked, raising a brow.

He still blushed a little bit when Chris threw implications like this his way. It was cute. Chris hoped Georgi would never get so used to him that he stopped colouring at his innuendos – but more than that, he wished he would still have Georgi for long enough that he might.

“Just thinking about calling you a wench for a joke is probably high treason and would be grounds to throw me in the dungeons,” Chris answered with a smirk. “Though risk aside, it sounds like a pretty good little play to act out in bed, now that I think about it…”

Georgi opened his mouth to answer, but stopped. Chris noticed that a shadow had fallen over his hand holding the keys. As he turned, he saw there was a tall man dressed in a frayed cloth swaying beside them, halting on the spot as if he’d forgotten where he wanted to go.

“You need anything, friend?” Chris asked, amicably. Aimless drunks weren’t a particularly uncommon sight at this hour, certainly not in this part of the city.

The man still seemed to be deliberating an answer, eyes unfocused, as Chris caught the flash of iron in the light of a lantern at a smithy’s door down the road. The knife was aiming at Georgi’s stomach with the speed and precision of the head of a snake.

There wasn’t enough time to warn him, or even shout, so Chris didn’t. He threw himself against the prince, knocking him out of the way, and it didn’t surprise him when the blade slid into his flesh, but _damn_ did it hurt. He gave a staggered breath just as he heard Georgi next to him call his name.

The attacker slammed Chris out of the way, his head knocking hard against a brick wall, and he went down with the knife in his side and his vision already fading. The last thing he saw was Georgi punching the man square in the face and pushing him off of Chris. Then the world went black.

-

When Chris woke up, he was looking at the gods. Fear settled in as soon as he knew what he was seeing; but it was tempered the same moment because with the first recognition came the realisation that he was staring up at a painting on a ceiling. Coupled with that was the decidedly mortal pain pulsing through his head and stomach. He really hoped his poor soul wouldn’t be settled with that in the afterlife.

“Christophe?”

Sluggishly, Chris moved his head to look to his side. There stood Georgi, hair ruffled, still in his simple street clothes, which were now smeared with mud and blood. Chris had to close his eyes for a moment as a flood of relief washed through him. Thank the gods Georgi had made it out.

“Chris,” Georgi repeated, voice stifled. As Chris’s vision cleared, he saw that tears were spilling down his face. His eyes were red; he must have been crying for a while.

“Hey, hey now.” Chris managed to lift one hand and place it against his cheek when Georgi leaned towards him. “I’m alive and so are you. Everything is fine.”

The assurance only seemed to spur on another sob. Georgi sank down at the edge of the bed and held his hand so tightly it hurt.

“How are you?” he whispered.

“Well, better than I was out on the street.” Chris picked a little at what felt like a bandage around his stomach. “What happened?” he asked.

“That man was an assassin by the Bushkov family. They made an unsuccessful grab for the throne last year. He’s being interrogated now. They must have known I have a habit of coming down to the Southbank, but I don’t think he was expecting you. He seemed thrown off guard.” Georgi blinked tears away, a futile endeavour, as new ones filled his eyes immediately. “You… his weapon was still _in_ you, so I managed to overwhelm him. Someone had called the city watch, I think, because they came just as I knocked him out.”

“Too bad I was unconscious. I’d have loved to see you in action,” Chris said, smiling. “Where are we?”

“The palace, of course,” Georgi said.

“ _The palace_?” Chris repeated, swallowing.

“Yes. I had to bring you someplace safe and we have a very good physician.”

Chris would have mentioned that it still seemed like a pretty big step to drag your commoner affair into what looked to be a pretty officially accessibly room of the palace, now that he took stock of the rich red curtains, the gold-rimmed wardrobe across the room, and the soft blankets in which he was wrapped. There were sick-houses throughout the city, after all, even in the better parts where Georgi would not have had to feel bad about leaving a lover. But of course, Chris thought, with as much trepidation as affection, Georgi would never have done that.

“The physician says you’ll be fine, but you need to rest and not aggravate the wound.”

“That means Alexei gets to be Dmitri for the next evenings, doesn’t it? The poor audience…”

Georgi smiled a little through his tears. He was still wiping at his cheeks when the door opened. Chris saw two young men entering, one with long, silvery hair spilling over his shoulders, the other dark-eyed and dark-haired and looking scholarly with his glasses. The king and his husband and, lurking in the doorway and trying to seem uninterested, a blond youth that he recognised as Prince Yuri.

Chris tried not to look as frightened as he felt. That was quite a sight to be greeted with.

“Your majesty, mylords,” he began, when no one spoke. “I wish I could be more respectful, but I can’t really get up...”

“Don’t worry about it. We weren’t really expecting courtesying,” Victor said.

Up close, the king was still fairly impressive, aloof smile as securely in place as his intricately adorned uniform, but he also looked a lot more like a man about Chris’ own age than a demi-god in the distance. This _should_ be doable without giving Victor a reason to behead him – other than seducing his younger brother, anyway, because Georgi still clinging to his hand wasn’t subtle.

“Are you feeling a little better?” Yuuri asked.

“Ah… someone else with an accent, now I don’t feel so lonely,” Chris joked, and then thought he probably shouldn’t have considering he was speaking to the _king consort_ , but the man smiled crookedly at him. Chris cleared his throat. “I think I will be fine. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“I don’t think my brother would have talked to me again if I hadn’t taken you in,” Victor pointed out. “But of course, I am happy to have you here… because I hear that without you, I might not have him anymore. For that, we must all thank you.”

Georgi nodded gravely. “Me most of all,” he added quietly.

“I – acted on instinct,” Chris said. This was a little bit different than being praised for his acting or skills as a lover and he was not sure how to take it. He didn’t know if he’d ever done anything this important before, but he had also not really thought about it at all as he’d done it.

“Those are quite honourable instincts to have,” Yuuri said, thoughtfully.

-

Over the next days, Georgi waited on Chris with such dedication that Chris briefly wondered if he misremembered their roles in life. Georgi would bring him food and water and books and help him up if he needed to go to the bathroom. He supplied Chris with paper to write a message to his friends at the Southbank Company (and helped him formulate a letter that didn’t sound quite as much like a fever dream as reality did at the moment). Georgi was always there to entertain him with conversation and games when needed, too – though he did intend to make Chris wait until after the bandage was taken off to broaden that definition to include adult fun as well. This was a shame because Chris had never before seen him in his formal clothes up close, beautiful, colourful robes and liveries cut perfectly to the shape of his tall, long-limbed body, with matching jewellery of gold and silver and sparkling gemstones. It did not help Chris to keep his thoughts innocent, but imagining that the king might catch Georgi riding Chris in his sick bed usually cooled him off pretty quickly.

Considering Georgi’s frequent presence, Chris expected his lover as the door opened one Sunday evening, but found himself facing the king instead.

“Your Majesty,” he said, unsure, wondering if this was the part where the other shoe dropped. So far, this room had felt isolated, with only Georgi and a few servants coming and going, but he had known his period of grace would end eventually.

Victor smiled his inscrutable smile at him.

“Chris, right? You’re not from here?”

“I fled from the Summerlands.”

“We heard about the wars.” Victor frowned. “I am happy you have found a place to live here.”

“So am I, believe me,” Chris said with a slightly strained grin.

Victor chuckled. He stood by the chair on which Georgi usually sat when he wasn’t perching at Chris’ bedside, leaning on the carved backrest.

“Do you love my brother?” he asked, apropos of nothing, after a short silence.

Chris glanced at the gods at the ceiling. Right, yes, _there_ was the other shoe.

“I’d say ‘no’, your majesty, but…”

Christ gestured at his stomach. He had caught that knife for him which meant didn’t have much of a leg to stand on if he wanted to claim indifference.

Giving an exaggerated sigh, Victor cocked his head. “I can see it’s mutual. But how am I going to explain that to my advisors? Well, it’s good luck that I’m still the king, isn’t it?”

“... yes?” Chris said, after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t quite follow.”

“You will,” Victor said, pushing off the chair as he walked towards the door.

“Am I in trouble?” Chris asked the king’s retreating back, sitting up.

“That depends wholly on your definition,” Victor said cheerfully as he strode out of the room.

-

“Good, you already put that stuff on. I was worried I’d have to help you get dressed or something.”

Prince Yuri looked Chris up and down in a way that suggested he might have committed a faux pas on the level of putting his underclothes above his head, but Chris was pretty sure that was simply his attitude. No, the clothes in and of themselves hadn’t cowed him when a servant had brought them this morning. Obviously, doublets and leather trousers were not wholly new experiences to him, though none he’d worn before had been as pretty as these. The brilliant green of the doublet’s cloth seemed picked out especially to match his eyes and the high boots felt better than anything he’d walked in since he had learned to do it. However, everything was cut from materials that made him very worried to move, because he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to pay back the money for a ruined piece of these clothes in a year.

“What’s the occasion, if I may ask, Prince Yuri?” he said.

“Don’t know. Victor just said to get you to the throne room.”

“I doubt he’s going to have you dragged to the hangman. He wouldn’t have given you clothes this nice!”

Chris turned to see a young woman in the door. She was wearing a dress as fiery red as her hair and her eyes were just as blue as Georgi’s. She smiled at him.

“Princess Mila?” Chris asked and bowed, now that he finally could.

“Very well guessed! Sorry for not dropping by sooner, but I was taking care of some bandits at the Western border, so I just came back today. I hope Georgi has spoken well of me, otherwise I’ll have to have a word with him.”

“Well, if he lied, he may have,” Yuri said quietly and Mila gave him a lightning-quick pinch in the back.

Chris had to suppress nervous laughter. Even royal siblings were still siblings, it seemed.

“Only good things, I assure you,” he said with the most charming smile he could muster. “Are you here to escort us?”

“No, that was Yuri’s job. I’m just curious what my brother has planned.”

“That makes two of us, mylady,” Chris said with a slow nod.

They walked along a hallway with ceilings as high as church domes and windows that were as tall as several men. The city seemed tiny from here, Chris thought, as he looked out over the patchy tapestry of rooftops and wild cobweb of streets. He couldn’t see the Southbank from this angle and figured that Georgi’s chambers had to be on the other side of the castle because he had sometimes told stories of looking wistfully down from his windows to where he knew Chris to be.

Georgi was not in his rooms dreaming today, however, but stood in the throne room between an old man with a face lined by weather and worry and a strict-looking woman in a stunning black dress that she carried with effortless elegance. Chris smiled briefly at him before he turned his eyes to the king, who was sitting on his golden throne, his consort standing by his side, and laboriously got to one knee. The wound in his stomach still ached, but he was going to make an attempt at passing some sort of standard for courtly behaviour, even if Victor already knew that the relationship between Georgi and him was anything but decorous.

“Christophe Giacometti – that is your full name, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Chris said.

“I’d like to formally thank you once more for the service you have done. On the other hand, you probably know that after an incident like this, the relationship between yourself and my brother would be pretty difficult to keep a secret. I’m sure the servants have already spread it all around their friends in other noble houses,” Victor said, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Chris couldn’t deny the logic of that. With his ribcage feeling suddenly too tight, he glanced at Georgi again. What now? Would he be banned from the city? Thrown in the dungeon after all? Georgi didn’t look like he had the answer. His eyes were fixed on his brother.

“Currently, I see only two ways out. Either you two stop seeing each other, or you make an honest man out of Georgi and accept an engagement.”

Chris all but fell over where he was sitting and then his head whipped up, all manners forgotten, as he stared directly at the king and the consort, Yuuri, who smiled slightly. Other than them, no one in the room seemed to have known of this particular idea, either; from Victor’s siblings to the man and woman standing at the sidelines, they all looked like Victor had just declared war on the heavens.

“Your highness,” the old man said, eventually, the first to find his voice again, “marrying Prince Georgi to an actor, no matter how heroic he may have proven to be, is _not_ going to avert a scandal.”

“Ah, well, you know, Yakov... we won every war and put down every coup in the last few years. We’ll need something to squabble over with the other lords and ladies at the next ball,” Victor said with a smile. “I’d rather people gossip about a brave commoner marrying into my family than spread rumours of my unmarried brother’s indecent relationships. Provided the brave man agrees.”

Turning back to Chris, he smiled, and temptation was so strong that Chris had to bite his tongue not to tell the king on the spot, yes, of course. He loved Georgi, though, and that meant he had to look out for him, right?

“I want him, but Prince Georgi has better options for marriage than me.”

“Indeed he has,” the woman behind him said, but there was resignation in her voice, and the reason why was written all over Georgi’s face, Chris saw, when he turned to look at them.

“I don’t think so!” Georgi exclaimed, immediately, staring wide-eyed at Chris and then at his brother. “This man may just play the knight, but I think he has proven he has the heart of one! I don’t think I could find a more deserving man or woman if I looked all over the Northern Kingdom!”

To Chris’ left, Prince Yuri made a quiet noise of disgust, but Georgi did not seem at all deterred from his heartfelt plea by that.

“It’s him you have to convince,” the king answered, finger extended towards Chris.

Georgi turned. His blue eyes were bright with hope.

“Christophe...”

And that was about all the arguments it needed. When had he turned into such a fool in love? Chris didn’t know, but it was much too late for common sense now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Chris said, his tight expression finally breaking apart into a smile. “Of course I’d take you for my husband if you’d have me.”

Georgi smiled and glanced at the ground. Chris was pretty sure he might have started crying.

“Unbelievable,” Yakov muttered. “At least order the Pearl District theatre to take him in if you _have_ to do this, Vitya. I won’t have him running down to the slums and back to the palace each day. He’ll be kidnapped within a week.”

Chris had a feeling that Lord Yakov suddenly dropping Victor’s title and all other formality from his speech meant that Chris’ acceptance into the family might not be a happy one, but it was apparently considered inevitable.

“Yes, yes. I’ll make him a knight for saving Georgi, too, so it should all be in order,” Victor said, waving his hand.

The expressions on the faces of the king’s advisors did not look like they thought so, but – well, as Victor had pointed out, which Chris finally understood now, he was the king and he had the final word.

Chris bowed deeply before the throne once more, forehead almost touching the ground.

“Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.”

“No, probably not,” the woman in the extravagant dress muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Don’t make me regret it,” the king said, with a playful note to his tone.

-

“So this is where you were standing when you swooned over me.”

Chris leaned out of the open window. Here, he saw the ribbon of the river glinting in the morning sun, winding its way between the houses, studded with ships with their sails billowing in the wind. Georgi smiled as he stepped up next to him.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But now I can swoon over you here in my chambers.”

“I look forward to that. You bed is much nicer than mine,” Chris said with a grin as he kissed him. However, he leaned back after a moment. “Though I’m still not convinced _I’m_ not in a bed and dreaming.”

In an hour, he had gone from a small-scale showman living in a rat-infested chamber down by the docks to being the fiancé of a prince with a knighthood promised to him. It was like being torn away by the rush of a storm-fed stream.

“I didn’t expect this, either.” Georgi shook his head. “Well, Victor knew of you, you see. I guess he might have thought about how to resolve this situation for a while.”

“He did?”

Chris looked at Georgi in surprise. His lover nodded his head.

“I didn’t tell him much, but he knew I was seeing _someone_ and asked. He wasn’t happy about it. He thought you might be using me. The attack must have convinced him otherwise.”

“Still, I’m not even a noble bastard or anything…”

“You know his husband?” Georgi said, smiling. “He’s not actually a prince, more of a lord, and of relatively small lands at that. But with how many miles there are between here and there, it wasn’t that important. They called him a Sunrise Island prince and the people like Yuuri, so no one questions it much.” Georgi wound his fingers between Chris’. “Either way, I’m convinced Victor would have married him even if he had been a peasant’s son. That’s why he doesn’t care. He knows of love.”

Chris gave an incredulous laugh.

“I see a sense of romance runs in the family.”

“Then you will fit right in. Actors are usually romantic people, right?”

Smiling, Chris raised Georgi’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Let me prove it to you right now.”


End file.
